


Strangers on a Train

by magneticdice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe, M/M, Public Sex, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are strangers who "meet" on a train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers on a Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stubliminalmessaging](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/gifts).



> Please forgive me for the horribly unoriginal title, but it just seemed so fitting… I woke up with this idea in my head and couldn’t do anything else until I got it all down. Five days later, tada…
> 
> This fic is a make-up Secret Santa gift for likingwhatilikedontmakemeabitch bc Katie was so patient and nice about not receiving her gift from her own secret santa. Here, you get an extra-long one now, albeit almost half a year later :-*

Ian Gallagher was a creature of habit. He had a routine that he stuck to every single morning before work. He went for a run as soon as he woke up, then showered, got dressed and grabbed a quick breakfast before hopping on the L. He liked to spend his commute listening to music, before being forced to endure an eight-hour day of mindless data entry in an equally boring office.

Ian got onto the train early enough that he was usually able to get a seat before it got too crowded. From his vantage point, he was easily able to watch the other commuters as they rode along to their various destinations. After a couple of months of doing the same trip at the same time each morning, he began to recognize a few faces. He even started naming them in his head.

There was Steve the Seat-Hogger, who liked to sit with his legs wide open so that he took up a seat and a half. Ian sometimes wondered if his junk was so big that he was physically incapable of sitting like a human being, or if the guy was just a douche. (He was leaning towards the latter.)

Then there was Sleeping Beauty, who Ian had the misfortune of sitting next to _once_. (He never made that mistake again.) Sleeping Beauty tended to fall asleep during her ride and let her head slide down to rest on the shoulder of whichever sorry soul was unlucky enough to be sitting beside her that morning.

Hungry Harry ate his breakfast ‒ be it oatmeal, a breakfast sandwich, even _steak and eggs_ ‒ without shame, as if he was in his own kitchen at home, with no one else watching him. He had a voracious appetite and Ian had to take care to look away as “Harry” scarfed his food down, lest he accidentally see into the mouth of the beast.

Dan the Door Holder was a university student who managed to cause a delay time and time again by preventing the doors from closing long enough for his slow-ass friends to make it onto the car. Ian didn’t really care about “Dan” and his friends one way or another; the delays weren’t long enough to make him late, and it could have been worse: at least they weren’t disruptive once they got on the train.

The L came to a stop and the doors opened, breaking Ian away from his people-watching for a moment ‒ just long enough for him to notice Loud Lisa board the train. She had a habit of using her cell phone during the entire ride, not giving a shit if everyone on the train had to hear her ridiculous conversations.

Ian rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket to pull his iPod out. He turned up the volume high enough to tune her out. That was when he noticed Sleeping Beauty’s victim of the day: Hot Guy.

Okay, it was a terrible nickname, but Ian couldn’t think of a more accurate description of the guy. His jet-black hair was a stark contrast to his pale skin and icy blue eyes ‒ a blue that matched the color of his crisp button-down shirt and loose, navy tie.

Hot Guy was in obvious discomfort, grimacing as he tried to shift away from Sleeping Beauty, to no avail. Ian chuckled softly to himself but froze when he received a deadly scowl from the guy. Ian immediately averted his eyes and coughed into his hand in an attempt to play the laugh off, but he had a bad feeling Hot Guy wasn’t buying it. In any event, he avoided looking at him until it was time to get off at his stop, awkwardly fidgeting with his tie the entire time.

As he exited the train, Ian quickly glanced over his shoulder at the guy one more time, but he wasn’t looking back at him. He sighed, almost in defeat, and continued walking onto the station platform, the inevitable ding of the closing doors behind him a sign that it was time to get back to reality.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Ian boarded the train at his usual stop and took his usual seat. He’d forgotten to charge his iPod the night before, so he’d bought a newspaper from the stand just outside of the station before heading up the stairs to the platform. He opened the paper to the page he wanted to read, taking care to fold it to a non-obnoxious size.

Once he got to the end of his article, Ian put the paper down and took a look around the car. Sleeping Beauty had a new, unsuspecting neighbor to torment, and there was no sign of Hot Guy anywhere. Hungry Harry was having what Ian guessed was a hot pocket for breakfast. There was a long string of cheese that stretched from his ever-chewing mouth to the rest of the sandwich, but the man didn’t even notice it. Thoroughly disgusted, Ian turned the page and went back to reading his paper.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, until Loud Lisa stepped inside. With no music to tune her out, Ian was forced to put his paper down and endure hearing about how wasted she got at the bar the night before and how she regretting hooking up with the married guy that had been chatting her up all night. Ian gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to say something to her. Instead, he leaned his head back against the train window and let his eyes close.

“Yo, you think you’re the only fucking person on this train?” he heard someone say gruffly from nearby. Loud Lisa’s conversation came to an abrupt halt. “No one wants to hear about who your skanky ass decided to fuck last night,” the voice continued.

Ian opened his eyes and looked for the source of the complaints, if only to mentally thank him, when he saw that it was Hot Guy who had spoken. The other passengers in his vicinity had looks of equal relief and amusement at the stunned, open-mouthed expression on Loud Lisa’s face.

Hot Guy seemed to realize that they were all looking at him, and his permanent scowl changed to one of embarrassment. The redness quickly crept up his neck and cheeks ‒ a red that only deepened once he made eye contact with Ian.

The L came to a stop and people dutifully shuffled in and out. When their movements finally settled, Ian’s view of Hot Guy was clear once again… only, he was nowhere to be found.

Disappointed, Ian resigned to reading his paper, hoping that he’d see the pale-skinned eye-candy the following day.

~ ~ ~

Ian felt like it was like Christmas in July, except for the fact that it was only May. Hot Guy was sitting directly across from him. In fact, he had been there since before Ian had gotten on. Ian idly wondered where he was even getting on from, but the thought was forgotten once the guy’s blue eyes locked onto his. They stared at each other, the guy seemingly just as fixated as Ian was.

For his part, Ian was making a mental note of every detail about the guy, from the way his biceps stretched at the sleeves of his shirt to the skinny black lettering tattooed on his knuckles. He wanted to say something, to smile ‒ to do _anything_ , really, aside from just sitting there and staring ‒ but he couldn’t. His mind was screaming at him, but his body just wasn’t listening. Then, before he knew it, the train came to a screeching halt and the guy got up and walked off.

Ian’s body finally un-froze; but, at that point, he could only frown.

~ ~ ~

Ian didn’t see Hot Guy on the train the next morning, nor the one after that. He spent the weekend unintentionally moping around, just waiting for the work week to begin. Even through the phone, his siblings could tell that his mind was elsewhere.

When Monday finally rolled around, he actually had to make an effort to not skip his morning routine. He reminded himself that he had to take the L at the same time that he normally did if he stood any chance of seeing the guy again.

Ian boarded the train and eagerly looked around; Hot Guy was nowhere in sight. With a sad sigh, he took a seat, plugged his headphones in and started one of his playlists. A couple of stations later, Ian looked up when the incessant beeping of the door not closing properly distracted him. As expected, Dan the Door Holder was there, backpack slung over his shoulder, standing right between the doors. His friends slipped through one by one, but to Ian’s surprise, the last person in was Hot Guy. He looked out of breath, like he had run in order to catch the train.

Once everyone was on the train, Dan the Door Holder moved and the doors snapped shut behind him. “Thanks, man,” he heard Hot Guy mutter to the kid before moving deeper into the already crowded car. Of course he ended up standing right in front of Ian, holding onto the silver bar that ran along the top of the train.

Ian had a direct view of his crotch, and felt himself blushing as he tried (and repeatedly failed) to look anywhere but straight ahead. He finally chanced a peek up, but Hot Guy wasn’t looking down at him; he was too busy scowling at Steve the Seat-Hogger, who was taking up not one, not one and a half, but _two_ seats.

Ian berated himself: the fact that Hot Guy wasn’t obsessed with looking at him was no reason to be so _bummed_. He told himself he was acting like a five-year-old. They were just strangers who happened to be travelling in the same direction.

After a few more stops, the train stopped at the guy’s station and he turned to disembark. Ian watched him walk off without a backwards glance and felt the same sadness run through him that he’d felt all weekend.

~ ~ ~

The following day found them in a similar situation. Ian had his regular seat, and when Hot Guy boarded, he walked over and held onto the railing just above Ian’s head. Ian made every effort _not_ to look up this time, not wanting to be disappointed yet again.

He settled for watching Hungry Harry eat his _three_ bags of Pop-Tarts, but that idea lasted all of five minutes; there was only so much he could tolerate without gagging. He wrung his hands together in frustration before sighing and looking up in defeat, expecting to see a nonchalant, uninterested expression on Hot Guy’s face. Only, that wasn’t what he saw at all.

The brunet was staring down at him, brows knit together in concentration, the same scowl on his face that Ian had grown accustomed to seeing. The redhead froze anew, his stupid body once again not listening to anything he ordered it to do. He couldn’t look away from the guy’s eyes… that is, until the brunet bit the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth, giving Ian something else to focus on.

Ian took in a sharp intake of his breath at the sight, and he was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was licking his lips. He didn’t even know how long they stayed like that, both staring and unmoving, until he heard the announcement for his station and hurried to get off the train.

Only after leaving did he remember that Hot Guy usually got off the train _before_ him. They’d been so caught up in the moment that Ian figured he must have missed his stop. He walked down the stairs of the platform with a smile on his face, toying with the possibility that maybe Hot Guy was into him too.

~ ~ ~

The only free seat on the train the next morning was right beside Sleeping Beauty, but Ian knew better… He would rather stand for the entire trip than deal with her. Instead, he held on to the bar near the door and spread his legs apart to get properly balanced, like any self-respecting, expert L-commuter would do.

He couldn’t stop from compulsively looking at the door every single time the train stopped, eagerly waiting for his Hot Guy to walk in. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long; his crush boarded the train just a few stops after him. The brunet looked around, eyes lingering on the seat Ian typically occupied, before turning around to hold on to the nearest railing.

Ian kept his eyes trained on the guy until he happened to look up and notice him. Then, to Ian’s utter shock, the guy walked over to him and grabbed the pole he was holding on to. Neither one said a word as the train trudged on. The other passengers boarded and exited as usual, but Ian didn’t pay them any attention, his sole focus on the guy standing just _feet_ away from him.

He had never realized how much shorter than him Hot Guy was. It wasn’t a bad thing or anything; just something he hadn’t noticed before, probably because they’d never both been standing at the same time. Another detail he noted thanks to their proximity was how the brunet had faint freckles on his face, just like Ian had.

He wanted to say something… even a simple “hi” would do… but he was so nervous he couldn’t get anything out. (No, it had nothing to do with the fact that he could finally make out what the guy’s knuckle tattoos said.) The effort of speaking was abandoned when Ian felt a sudden jolt in his hand. His eyes darted to the railing and he saw that the guy had slid his hand down so that it was resting just above Ian’s on the pole, skin barely grazing his.

Anyone’s natural reaction to being accidentally touched by a stranger on public transportation would be to move their hand away. Only, this didn’t seem like an accident, and they weren’t _exactly_ strangers anymore… were they? Ian tightened his grip on the bar, almost in defiance to logic. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his palm where his fingers grasped at the pole. He could also feel a sort of wild energy radiating between their hands, like an electrical current of sorts passing from him to the guy and back where they made contact. It was an energy that he craved more of.

He lifted his thumb and hesitantly put it on top of the very tip of the guy’s pinky. His finger felt unexpectedly soft beneath Ian’s, and, when the guy didn’t immediately pull his hand away, Ian felt emboldened. He began to gently rub at the finger, his strokes becoming longer and more confident. He heard the guy sigh and looked up to see him standing with his eyes closed, but the best part about it was that he wasn’t scowling anymore. In fact, his face looked calm, almost relaxed.

Then, just as unexpectedly as it had begun, Hot Guy withdrew his hand from the pole. He flashed Ian an apologetic look before rushing off the train at his usual stop. Ian pressed his lips together, holding in a “fuck” that was just begging to come out.

~ ~ ~

Something important must have been happening downtown, because when Ian boarded the L, there was barely enough room for him to get in, let alone sit. Even Steve the Seat-Hogger was squished into a corner. Ian was forced to squeeze through the crowd until he made it to the middle of the car. He tightened his grip on the pole ahead of him, trying not to smile too broadly at the memory of what had happened the previous day as he listened to his favorite playlist through his headphones.

The last time the L had been so full had been the first day of the Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo. He’d only heard about C2E2 because of his brother Lip, who had attended some sort of robotics workshop at it a month ago. It was obvious that some kind of similar event was taking place because of all the tourists on the train, half of them fully decked out in costumes.

The train began to move and Ian was grateful that he at least had a good grip on the pole. Some of the other passengers weren’t so lucky, being jostled into one another with each sway of the car. It was as if the engineer was drunk or something, but Ian knew that it had to be because the L was packed.

The train lurched to a stop at the following station and someone was knocked into Ian. He straightened up and realized with a start that it was Hot Guy. He hadn’t even noticed him board. They both regained their balance and Ian moved his hand up higher on the pole to allow Hot Guy to get a good grip.

Ian pulled out his headphones and tucked them into his pocket. He was in the middle of working up the courage to touch the guy’s hand again when the train swayed once more, sending Hot Guy falling forward. Ian automatically stuck out a hand and grabbed the brunet by the hip to steady him, preventing the fall. When he realized what he’d just done, his eyes widened in shock and he immediately pulled his arm back, but wasn’t able to complete the action. He stared down at his hand, confused, and saw that it was held in place by hot guy’s fingers atop his.

He stared down at bright blue eyes that held his gaze while they silently communicated that the touch was okay. Stiffly at first, but with growing confidence, Ian let his hand relax. He didn’t try to pull away, but his grip on the guy’s hip was firm.

At the next stop, even more passengers boarded the train. Hot Guy was forced to move closer to Ian. He turned so that they stood front to back, and Ian felt the shorter man lean back slightly against his chest. He was grateful that the brunet couldn’t see his face anymore; just the idea of him seeing Ian’s obvious blush was beyond embarrassing.

That same electricity that had passed between their hands the day before was even stronger now. Ian felt it in his palm and fingertips where he held him, but also where the brunet’s back rested against his torso. He felt like his chest was on fire from the contact. He felt the familiar tug in his gut, a combination of nerves and excitement, made only stronger by his thoughts of holding his crush tightly by the hips as he bent him forward and pounded into him.

Someone dressed as a wizard (long beard, pointed hat, robes and all) decided it was the perfect moment to add his hand to the already over-crowded pole. He heard the brunet hiss, “Watch it, Gandalf,” at the annoyance. Ian grinned, not just at the guy’s joke, but at the discovery that they had nickname-giving in common. Hot guy took another small step backwards to give the wizard more space, his body becoming flush against Ian’s. Suddenly Ian’s blush wasn’t the only thing he had to be embarrassed about: the guy’s ass was pressed up to Ian’s quite-obvious erection.

Ian bit his lip, panicking. He tried to move away, because touching hands was one thing, but _this_ ‒ whatever it was ‒ was completely different. He released his hold on the guy’s hip and started to pull back, but was deterred again. Hot Guy grabbed him by the wrist and held him in place. Slowly, he moved Ian’s hand lower until Ian could feel his equally hard dick through his pants.

Ian was instantlyall-tooaware of the fact that they were on a very public, very crowded train. From the corner of his eye, so as not to cause too much attention, he looked at the other passengers and realized with great relief that no one could see them; they were packed together too tightly. He was sure the fact that Hot Guy was facing away from him actually made them look _less_ conspicuous.

Armed with the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who was turned on, Ian bravely spread his fingers out on the shorter man’s pants and rubbed softly at his erection with his open palm. At the same time, he leaned his body forward so that his dick pressed against Hot Guy’s soft, round butt.

Just then, the train stopped at Hot Guy’s station, and Ian pulled his hand away, albeit regretfully. The brunet took a deep breath and sighed, collecting himself for a moment before pushing through the crowd in order to exit. He didn’t look back at Ian.

As Ian walked off the platform at his own station a few stops later, he made a mental note to ask Lip about which convention was taking place, and how long it would run for. He kind of liked being forced into closer proximity with Hot Guy...

~ ~ ~

According to Lip, the convention was supposed to last another three days, but it was already the end of the week; Ian doubted that his crush would take the train for no reason on the weekend. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency when he boarded the L on Friday morning, like it was crunch time or something.

He spotted most of the regular commuters interspersed throughout the convention goers: Steve the Seat-Hogger was standing sullenly in the corner, leaning against the door that connected the car they were in with the one ahead of it; Sleeping Beauty was sitting ‒ wide awake and with her arms crossed ‒ between two men dressed as elves; and Hungry Harry was struggling to bring his bagel up to his mouth while still holding on to the railing, surrounded by a group of happy and giggling teenage girls with fairy wings sticking out from their backs.

Ian anxiously watched the door at each stop until he spotted the familiar black, slicked-back hair appear on the train, and he stayed just as tense as Hot Guy pushed through the crowd, moving towards him. In fact, he didn’t relax until the shorter man stood right in front of him, chewing on the corner of his bottom lip the way he typically did, all while staring at Ian with his piercing, icy blue eyes.

Ian wondered if the brunet had any idea how crazy the lip-biting drove him… if he knew just how badly Ian wanted to reach out and pull him close so that _he_ could be the one biting the guy’s lip.

There were only a few inches between them once the train started moving. Neither of them spoke a word; apparently it had become an unspoken rule that they did _not_ talk. The fact that this was their last day of being surrounded by other passengers briefly flashed into Ian’s mind. He waited for Hot Guy to move closer to him, but quickly grew impatient.

For the first time, Ian was the one to initiate contact, not wanting to waste what little time they had. He grabbed the brunet by his waist and drew him forward, ignoring his nervous looks at the crowd around them to make sure they weren’t being watched. It was like he was seeing a déjà vu of how he had felt the previous day play out right in front of him, and he saw the brunet quickly relax once he came to the same conclusion Ian had arrived at the day before: the train was so packed that no one could see what they were doing.

They were so close that Ian could feel Hot Guy’s breath on each exhale. He took a chance and let go of the bar so that he was able to hold the brunet on the other side of his waist too, then carefully moved both hands up, feeling the muscles underneath his fingers. The shorter man shuddered from his touch and Ian hesitated momentarily. He looked at Hot Guy’s face again, but saw him shake his head ever-so-slightly, indicating that Ian shouldn’t look at him: it would just draw more attention to them.

Ian reversed the direction his hands were moving, now sliding them down along the brunet’s torso, until they rested on his hips. He tentatively slid them back and grabbed at the round cheeks that had pressed against his dick the day before. Ian smiled at the memory, not just of what had actually happened between him and Hot Guy, but also of what he’d done afterwards: he had been _so_ turned on by the morning’s events that he had had to jerk off in the bathroom at the office before being able to start work for the day.

Ian wanted more; he was hungry for it. He wanted to feel _all_ of his crush's body. He started to pull at Hot Guy's shirt but the brunet grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him.

Ian have him a quizzical look, but instead of giving him an answer or some kind of meaningful look that communicated everything he needed to say, the shorter man dragged Ian by his arm and forced him to turn around so that his back was to him, not even giving the redhead a chance to protest. Then, without warning, he felt a hand slip into his pants pocket.

If Ian were in a cartoon, it would have been the moment when his eyes literally bugged out of his head. His heart was racing and even as Hot Guy pushed his hand deeper into the pocket and reached for his cock, Ian couldn't believe it was really happening.

He hadn't been completely hard, but that took all of ten seconds to remedy. The hand in his pocket rubbed at his dick tentatively at first, almost like Hot Guy was as scared and surprised by it all as he was, but then the strokes became harder and more deliberate.

Ian reached for the pole again to hold himself steady, because he sure as hell wasn't going to be able to balance on his own without some kind of support – not while receiving a handjob through his fucking _pocket_ in the middle of a packed, rush hour L train.

Even through the fabric of his pants, he could feel the brunet's warmth; his touch gave Ian a literal buzz, every squeeze and tiny movement sending that same electricity through him that their previous contact had. It was like they were drawn together by some unseen force ‒ though the action seemed crazy, the result was inevitable. Hot Guy wrapped his hand around Ian's shaft as best as he could under the circumstances, firmly running his hand lengthwise along Ian's dick. Ian sighed, thinking that everything was _perfect_.

Not even in his wildest fantasies – and he had seriously thought of at least twenty different scenarios of what could happen between him and Hot Guy – had Ian imagined this. He closed his eyes and, ignoring the disbelief he still felt, reveled in the amazing handjob he was getting. He started panting as he got closer to the edge, the tugging sensation in his gut getting stronger with each firm stroke.

Ian's grip on the pole tightened from the relentless rubbing, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. Hot Guy added a little twist to each of his strokes right at the head of Ian's dick, and before he knew it, Ian was spewing all over the inside of his boxers. The brunet's hand stilled while Ian tried to control his spasms, and he eventually withdrew it when the train slowed to a stop at his station.

Blissed out off of his orgasm, Ian couldn’t get his mind to form a coherent thought, let alone get his body to follow a simple order like "turn around". Hot Guy was leaving… he was walking off the train and Ian still hadn’t managed to say a single word to him. He didn’t even know his fucking _name_. Still using the pole as support, he dumbly turned his head enough to see the brunet exit the train.

Ian got off the L at his stop just a couple of minutes later. He stared down at his crotch in horror: it looked like he had honest-to-God pissed himself, the wetness quickly soaking through his boxers and the light, soft material of his work pants. There was no way he could just wait for it to dry; he would need to go home and change, or live with a crusty embarrassment for the entire day (which he was sure his coworkers would never let him live down). He bought a newspaper from the stand at the bottom of the train platform to cover himself with until he could get back to his apartment and change.

When he was finally home, Ian peeled off the dirty layers and let the pile drop to the ground. He cleaned himself off in the bathroom, then grabbed another pair of slacks from his closet and clean boxers from the dresser. As an afterthought, he leaned down and picked up the filthy clothes from the floor. He figured he was going to be at least half an hour late anyway, so he might as well not be a slob. Only then did he notice the white scrap of paper hanging from his pants pocket.

Ian pulled the paper out the rest of the way to see what it was, and his jaw dropped down once he figured it out. In a messy scribble that he didn’t recognize were the name “Mickey” followed by a phone number. It took him a moment to recover from the surprise but as he started down at the writing, his lips began to curve to his ears in the mother of all grins.

So, Hot Guy’s name was Mickey? He mulled it over ‒ even whispered “Mickey” aloud to himself in his empty apartment ‒ before deciding that “Hot Guy” was definitely a more appropriate name. Then, without hesitation, he entered the number into his phone and hit the send button.

**Author's Note:**

> i kinda sorta procrastinated a bit while in the middle of writing and made [this graphic](http://magneticdice.tumblr.com/post/118613839462) to go along with the fic...


End file.
